So a while back, I mentioned that I have a new writing gig. Well, it’s officially launched and you can now find me over at “Insert Eyeroll,” a satire site.

So far, I’ve written a story about Weird Al Yankovic running for President, and Octomom being announced as the next Bachelorette. Go, check them out. And hey, I’d appreciate you Stumbling and Digging the stories if you have a few spare moments, thanks in advance.

I’m really jazzed about the new site. There are some really good writers there.

Saw a couple of movies recently. “Captain America” rocked, I thought. They did a great job with it. They did a good job with the origin story. Lots of action and cool shield-throwing from Cap. And I saw it in 2D. Given the option, I’ll probably always see movies in 2D. It’s usually not worth the extra scratch to see it in 3D. WORTH: Full price.

Also saw “Cowboys & Aliens,” which I enjoyed, despite being fairly short on plot. I just went into it with lower expectations and liked it. Daniel Craig was made for westerns, I think, and plays quite the badass. It would have made for a good straight western, without the science fiction thrown in, but so be it. The CGI aliens show through at times – probably why they’re mostly relegated to the darkness – but if you’re looking for a good popcorn blockbuster kind of movie, I think you’ll have a good time. The title says it all. It’s us vs. them. WORTH: matinee price.

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan

I’m a t-shirt and cargo shorts kinda guy. Have been for quite a while. No, I’m never going to be fashionable. I’m all about the comfort and utilitarian thing.

I recently had to go clothes shopping, though, which I detest. There’s no way I’m going to be able to button my shorts with one hand post-surgery in September. So I went to Walmart (which I also detest) and Big Lots to find some cheap elastic waist-banded shorts. I thought about going with some large sizes to make getting dressed a bit easier, but they just about fell off of me. So I stuck with mediums.

Here’s a little sample of what I found. Again, I’m no fashion hound, which is evident.

Even in a medium, I’m not going to be able to load up the pockets without risking showing everyone my underwear. Oh, well. I’ll be practicing dressing with one hand a lot between now and my surgery. Now I need to find shirts. T-shirts will be too difficult to maneuver, I’m afraid. So I’m thinking of getting button-ups.

Yeah, that’s gonna make me look fantastic.

The final space shuttle, Atlantis, landed pre-dawn this morning. It’s a sad thing to see the shuttle program end. I still remember watching the very first shuttle take off when I was in grade school. One of those special occasions, where a TV was wheeled into the classroom. I’m also sad that, for the foreseeable future, we’ll be relying on Russian spacecrafts to get back and forth to the International Space Station. The U.S. has led space travel for decades…kind of feels like a huge step backward.

Is privatizing space flight the way to go? Only time will tell. But as a little boy, I used to watch the Apollo missions fly into space from my driveway. Nobody will be walking the moon again any time soon.

The NFL owners and players are still negotiating to see if there’ll be an upcoming football season. I couldn’t care less. In fact, it’d be great not to have football clogging up the airwaves.

I got Google+ and so far, so good.

It’s crisp and clean and works well. I’m not exactly sure what to do with it, and have yet to do any group video chats, but I think I like it. My only real bitch at the moment is that for many Twitter followers who add me on Google+, I don’t know their real names. Thus, I have a circle called “People I Don’t Know,” which also serves useful when a friend of a friend adds me.

Most of what I post is Public, but I like the ability to post things only to select circles.

I’m still in love with my new iPhone 4 and have become re-addicted to Uno.

It plays well and I win often. Sure, I play on Easy mode most of the time, but I like winning.

I saw the movie “Horrible Bosses.” It wasn’t horrible, but it wasn’t fantastic, either. The screenplay was meh, but the performances were good. I spent most of the movie wondering what the girl behind me looked like, since she was laughing throughout. She had a nice laugh, but I knew I couldn’t date her because the movie wasn’t that funny. What? Like you don’t ever wonder if someone is dateable or attractive from their laugh?

And in good news, I got a new writing gig. I can’t say much about it at the moment, but it’s for a soon-to-be-launched website. It’s nice to feel semi-productive again.

There…this post is all over the board, I know, but that’s what’s going on with me. How are you?

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan

What does depression feel like? That’s what ads for antidepressants ask us, as they parade about cartoons of sad rocks rolling lazily along a sparse black and white landscape. Right now, it feels like this enormous weight sitting on my chest, one that refuses to go away.

I look fine on the outside (even on Twitter), but I’m not. You’d think I’d be happy about going 7 weeks (today) without a cigarette. But in actuality, quite a bit of late I feel as if I’m on the verge of a panic attack. I face each day with dread…another day to face with far too much time on my hands and no way to pass that time.

I know, I realize that many people complain about not having enough time, so it sounds crazy to bitch about having too much of it. Trust me, it’s a grass-is-always-greener thing. There is such a thing as too much time. I have a fine appreciation these days for certain idioms, like “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop.”

My brain is my worst enemy. I cannot imagine living the rest of my life this way, and yet somehow I manage to do just that. I lay in bed, awake, for hours at a time…wondering. How can I continue skating by like this, day to day, no income other than disability, not working, living with my mother, so scared at times that I can’t leave the house, spending 20 minutes just trying to decide what to eat, the weight on my chest, hopeless? Every action I take seems pointless.

Someone left a comment on my last post, saying something to the effect of “just forget about working and let the bills take care of themselves.” I don’t know if they were attempting to be humorous but I didn’t find it very funny. Much as my life may seem like a joke, it’s not a joke to me. Granted, my sense of humor is more than a tad lacking right now.

I see the future and it looks bleak to me because I’m alone. And that’s something that really shakes the bajeezus out of me. Who do I have to take care of me when I get old? I know, what the fuck am I thinking about this shit for at 44? Because I’m likely closer to death than I am to my birth. What? I said it looks bleak.

This is more than a mid-life crisis, I assure you. I feel like I’m drowning and it’s been building for a while. All comfort seems to elude me. TV, music, books, Twitter and Facebook, even talking with friends…it all falls flat.

I would prefer non-existence over this. As the Old 97’s sang once, “Parts of me have already died.” I’m NOT suicidal, for the record. Don’t go calling anyone to slap the white jacket on me and throw me in a rubber room. I’m just in a really bad place, and at a total loss about what to do.

I see that “30 Days of Truth” blog meme going around. I’ve thought about trying it, but it’s an awfully lengthy way to gaze at my navel even more than I’ve already been doing. Besides, my blog has already turned into nothing but depressing Truth.

I feel like my best years are all gone. I feel like I’ve run out of things to say, and that no one could possibly find me interesting, let alone want to hang out with me. I dread gatherings of people now more than I think I ever have. Can’t imagine facing anything like BlogHer or TequilaCon in my present state of mind. Hell, I struggle just to go out to dinner right now.

I have fucked up virtually all aspects of my life, and there are no do-overs.

Don’t you just wanna party with me? Honest, I used to be funny. I just don’t know where that man is any more.

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan

So the big concert on Saturday (OK Go) was a wash, thanks to a dead car battery the day of the concert. Thankfully, it didn’t happen in Orlando. Had I got out of the show at 11′ish Saturday night, and my car wouldn’t start, I would have been fucked royally. Instead, it happened in the short span of time it took me to get cigarettes from the smoke shop Saturday afternoon.

I was counting on the show to break me out of my funk, even if only for a few hours. But no. The universe had other ideas for me, apparently. After not being able to jump-start the car the first time, I left it in the parking lot and came back a few hours later with a friend. It started up fine the next time, with help of Mom’s car battery.

Got the car back to the house and I stayed home Saturday night, feeling especially melancholy when 8 o’clock rolled around (show time). Sunday I went to the auto parts store to get the battery tested. Surprisingly, when you hook up your battery to a charger – and acid starts frothing out of the top of said battery – it’s not a good thing.

Far better that it was the battery than something more expensive, like a starter or alternator. Still, my weekend was fucked, as was my mood.

I totally forgot about Kevin coming to Orlando this week, too, so when he reminded me Monday via Twitter that he’d be at Downtown Disney Tuesday night, I was like, fuck. Suddenly, not only was I miserable for missing OK Go, but I had to message Kevin and let him know I’d have to bow out. A 90-minute drive, mixed with overpriced dinner (no matter how enjoyable the company), was out of the question.

Sorry I couldn’t hang, Kev. Hope you and Katie are having a smashing time in Florida.

Yesterday, I met with the Matrix Therapist. Didn’t feel like going, much like I haven’t felt like doing most anything lately.

As she ushered me toward her office, she uttered the words “Temple of Tryptophan.” (NOTE: the new design has been up for just over a week now.)

Me: Oh my God, you’ve been to my blog.

Matrix Therapist: It’s not the first time.

Me: Oh my God, you’ve been to my blog…again.

(NOTE TO SELF: Don’t ever write any dirty dreams about the Matrix Therapist here.)

I explained to the Matrix Therapist just how bad the anhedonia is.

Me: Every time I use the word “anhedonia,” I inevitably have to explain to people what it means.

MT: So stop explaining. Tell them to look it up.

Me: I linked to the Wikipedia definition the last couple of times. Doesn’t seem all that difficult to figure out. I mean there’s hedonism – people seem to know what THAT means. Put “an” in front of it…hello, prefixes, ever heard of ‘em?

MT: So what’s going on?

Me: I can’t enjoy anything. TV, music, books, computer. I tried making that list of shit to get out of the house.

MT: And how did that go?

Me: Much like throwing bricks in the Grand Canyon. I went to the movies…

MT: What did you see?

Me: Iron Man 2.

MT: You went by yourself?

Me: I have nobody else to go with.

MT: How was it?

Me: It was okay^*. But I found myself wanting it to be over long before it was. Like I’m itchy to move onto something else, though nothing else is satisfying, either. I was just going through the motions.

MT: What else did you try?

Me: Bookstore…more motions. Gym, karaoke…motions, motions. Then, I drove in the pouring rain yesterday to go to the library. Got there and they’re fucking CLOSED Sundays and Mondays.

MT: Were you mad?

Me: Frustrated, but it seems par for the course. In my opinion, the library should be open on all days we have mail delivery, but then, no one ever consults me. So I just said ‘fuck it’ and went home.

It’s this isolation I feel that is part of my paralysis. Once again, I’ve put too many of my eggs into one basket. I lost my best friend recently – one of the only local friends I have. I have other close friends, but they’re all living in my computer, so to speak. And though I do answer my phone most of the time, I rarely reach out by calling them first.

Hate dragging people down into my muck.

In the first of these mugshots above, I was optimistic. Everything was great. I loved 2010, a far better year than 2009 had been. I had a girlfriend, a best friend, the Year of Resolutions, my life was back on track. Or so I thought. Within weeks, no girlfriend, lost my best bud, Mom broke her kneecap, I went manic, fainted twice from low blood sugar, lost my job.

Me: I’ve been ready to write this fucking year off for months. And it’s only getting worse.

MT: Have you thought about going back to school?

Sure, I’ve thought about it. But here’s the problem: go back to school for what, exactly? I’ve often said that the next time I go back to school, it’ll be only classes I WANT to take, as opposed to taking courses toward a degree.

Then there’s all the headache associated with getting a hold of all my previous transcripts. I’ve been to more than a handful of schools (Air Force traveling).

MT: You don’t need that stuff just to take a class.

Me: Oh? Hmm.

But this is how I approach everything, really. I think of something that might be even remotely interesting, then I flashforward and talk myself out of it because whatever it is is insurmountable.

MT: Let me ask you this…what do you feel is lacking from your life?

Me: Local friends, companionship…

MT: OK…

Me: But what do I have to offer a woman? I’m 43, unemployed, living with my mother, and I’m about as much fun lately as The Meat Thawing Network.

And again, we come to this impasse. So the MT starts talking employment, and that’s a whole other kettle of fish. Working. I haven’t worked in a “real” job for 10 years now. That was a 4-month stint as a technical writer in the corporate world, where I started having another breakdown toward the end of that gig. Two years before that, the Great Nervous Meltdown of ‘98. All I imagine when I think about working a “real” job again is freaking the fuck out and having another breakdown. I lack confidence in my ability to work a normal job.

So the MT suggests a few non-traditional things, such as research studies and mock juries. Oddly, she never even brought up gigoloism. She also suggested working in the local bookstore. And while the bookstore might seem a natural fit (I’ve worked in one before, albeit decades ago), the thought of “normal” working hours, having to get dressed and presentable and leave the damn house, gives me the heebie jeebies. Research studies may be the way to go. Put me in a giant maze and make me chase for cheese or some such shit.

I’m simply lost. Overwhelmed and mired in shit. And nothing I do feels right, let alone fun. A total lack of engagement.

Where's the Cheese?

Hmm. Perhaps there’s no pressure being a lab rat. After all, I already feel like one.

^* Iron Man 2. SPOILER ALERT. Decent flick, not as good as the first one. Robert Downey, Jr. is great, natch. But I felt it was too slow in many places, lacked a lot of the charm from the original. The action sequences were too few and far between, and the last half hour was just spastic with too MUCH happening. Watching multiple Iron Men duking it out sort of takes the “special” out of Iron Man. And seeing Mickey Rourke – some muscle-bound semi-dreadlocked tattooed gold-toofed Russian – as a nuclear physicist was stretching my disbelief beyond normal limits…even for a comic book movie. Overall grade: B-

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan

This week has been a total write-off as far as exercise is concerned. I’ve been sick for a week now, and even though I’m pretty sure it’s just a cold, it’s been kicking my ass. Major snot factory, coughing, wheezing, headaches, sore throat, etc. (And yes, I’m keenly aware that smoking isn’t helping…that Resolution will come later this year. Not ready for that one yet.)

Being sick isn’t something I do well. It’s a rarity to begin with, perhaps once a year (twice if it’s a bad year). In this case, it’s been over a year since I was last afflicted with anything. Physical, I mean. Mentally, I’m afflicted many times over, of course.

We’re nearly done with March already, but I’m calling the exercise Resolution successful. I’ll start on it again as soon as I’m up to snuff. Let’s take a look at the Resolutions so far, yeah?

January: Diabetes. This is still going strong, mostly. I’ve been a bit lax on checking sugar this past week. Getting on the horse again, though. My sugar this morning (before meds or breakfast) was 211. High, yes, but again…haven’t been great about everything this past week. Sugar the last week has averaged 146.

I’ll be filling my weekly pillboxes when I finish here. Doing really good taking my meds most of the time, too.

February: Work. Meh. Not so great here. Plan to get to work today, as well. Gotta write a story. And I haven’t even begun looking for another writing gig, though I’m totally open to more.

March: Exercise. Already mentioned. I plan on continuing with this. I’ve seen how it affects (positively) my blood sugar…knocks it down quite a bit. And that’s a good thing. That was part of the idea behind the Year of Resolutions: that they’d interplay in various ways, all to make me feel better physically and mentally.

Now it’s time to think about April. We’re only days away from it and I need to come up with another Resolution. I have it narrowed down to a few ideas, but am open to more suggestions. I’m leaning toward something spiritual at the moment. We’ll see.

I’ll be announcing the winner(s) of the Funniest Sex Story contest tomorrow. Got some really good entries.

Lordy, I need a new computer. Finally fixed my problematic mouse by getting a new wireless mouse. Works fine now…must have been the old mouse’s receiver that was the problem. But my 4-yr-old Dell laptop is just sluggish. Takes nearly 7 or 8 minutes to fully boot. Maxed on RAM, dependent on an external hard drive.

Oh, Apple, why can’t you send me a shiny new MacBook Pro on a scholarship or something?

In the good news department, I’m mending things with a friend, and that feels nice. The last few months have been a whirlwind of a roller coaster ride. The Matrix Therapist noted that I seem “different” at our last session. Not sure what that means, exactly, but she said I seem “mellower.”

The new meds seem to be doing something, I’m just not sure what, exactly. My energy levels seem higher (this past week notwithstanding). My mood? Perhaps better, but not markedly so.

The new 2HT design is coming along. Not on the schedule I was hoping for, but then that’s what happens when your designer has sick kiddos. Fucking priorities…ugh. The development site is up and running. I’m thinking it should only be a couple of weeks, but can’t be sure. In the meantime, the runner-up from the Funniest Sex Story contest is getting a sneak-peek at the new design with a specially-made item from the 2HT store.

Speaking of which, there’s a new shirt for the dudes. I already had a girl’s shirt made up. Now the guys are free to tell it like it is, too.

Seriously, It’s Not Me. It’s You. MEN SHIRT by karlerikson

Naturally, you can customize the color and style of shirt.

Lastly, I decided to end my relationship with my ad network. I love BlogHer, don’t get me wrong. I just got tired of being suspended for the occasionally offensive post, or for running a giveaway. If I was pulling in hundreds of dollars in revenue, that’d be one thing, but I’m not. I barely cover my monthly hosting costs. Just not worth it any more.

So that’s what’s going on with me at the moment. How about you?

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan

Went to the Y yesterday. Did 30 minutes treadmill time. Forgot my headphones. Sucked.

Gotta work tomorrow. MUST.

I’m really missing the way things used to be a lot right now.

Bed. Tai chi in morning. Wasn’t feeling going the other day.

Written on my iPhone.

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan

So February’s Resolution…the work thing. I got fired from my main job, so I couldn’t do much there. No, I haven’t been looking, either, though I’m open to writing gigs. Ahem. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.

I did get two stories written for my travel blog gig. Not one a week, as I resolved to do. So I’m going to cut myself some slack and say that it’s a minimal success. I did work, after all, for the first time in…a long time.

March 1. This year is blurring by me, I’ve gotta tell you. Course, I just really left the house last week for the first time in months. Being homebound will make all those days of the week rather fuzzy.

For those of you new here, the Year Of Resolutions (YOR) is something I came up with at the beginning of the year. A new Resolution every month, just for 30 days (or in this case, 28). The idea being, I can do anything for a month. It takes 21 days to start a habit, so hopefully, I’ll pick up a new healthy habit each month.

In a continuing effort to fix my fucked up mental state – to actually shoot for that mythical happiness – I’m picking another physical Resolution.

March: Physical

I resolve to exercise at least five days a week.

I knew this was coming and so I went to my local YMCA and joined up. I even qualified for a scholarship because I’m on disability. I went yesterday for the first time and did 30 minutes on a treadmill. Granted, I wasn’t going incredibly fast or on a hellacious incline. But you’ve gotta understand, sometimes getting up to take a piss is my only exercise for the day.

I don’t do that crap. Mostly because I hate sweating, but also because it’s NOT FUN. It’s boring as fuck, exercising. I feel like I could be doing other stuff, making use of my time in other non-productive ways.

So, yeah, I’m way out of shape. I may have lost a lot of weight lately, but that doesn’t mean I’m fit. I still have a gut (thanks, beer!).

I got a list of the classes they offer at the Y.

I’m thinking water aerobics, the Zumba thing, maybe some yoga and tai chi. We’ll see.

On days I don’t go to the Y, I’ll do stuff with the Wii Fit, or maybe take walks. But I will exercise at least five days a week. I’m not even putting pressure on myself to do it every single day…or even the same days each week.

I’m hoping some of these classes are fun and will make me WANT to go to the gym. Who knows? Maybe I’ll meet some rock hard cougar who wants to be my Sugar Momma. At the very least, I’ll see hot, sweaty women in tight clothing.

So there ya have it. I’m not feeling much like doing this YOR thing any more, I have to say. But I’m not abandoning it. I’ve got my diabetes under much better control. I’m working again. And in a month, you’ll be able to wash clothes on my amazing abs.

Or something.

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan

I wrote another story for my remaining gig last week. That’s two now. Woo hoo!

Meh. I should be working more. See aforementioned lack of momentum. Feel like I’ve been punched in the gut.

I’m pretty blah about most everything of late, truth be told.

Watching Hilary sprout her wings again is pretty cool. Makes  me wish I was doing the same thing. I’m not happy here, and I know it. Don’t get me wrong, Sebring has its charms. But it’s too small for me.

I need more.

Maybe it’s just that I need more local friends. That’s true, too, I’m sure.

I need to be somewhere, though, where there are more places to meet women than at a bar. I need to be somewhere with movie theaters that have stadium seating. I need to be somewhere with more of a local scene, more activities, more concerts, and 3G.

I had that in Dallas. Plus, a really cool church. Yeah, I’ve been to church. Shocked? My point is, I had a very active social life back then.

I don’t need somewhere as big as Dallas. But it’s gotta be bigger than Sebring. I know I favor warmer weather in the winter. I want some place that has real pubs, Guinness on tap. Somewhere with karaoke. Nearby airport. Some place that has character. See? I have my priorities.

If I had the financial resources to do it, I’d leave. Not at THIS MOMENT. Mom is still on the mend, I’m not a total prunt. Usually.

But soon. I’d blow this pop stand and set about really pursuing happiness again. I’m not sure what that looks like, exactly, but I know it’s going to be somewhere other than Sebring, Florida.

Shit, I dunno much right now. I know I’m tired of being this dude.

Fucking song still makes me tear up. Every. Single. Time.

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan

Tuesday night, Mom and I had our first TNT night out since her accident. The TNT’s, for those that don’t know, are otherwise known as the Dynamite Divas. In my head, I call them the Tuesday Night Supper Club, but it’s basically the Meatsuite mentality…just a couple decades down the line.

Every Tuesday, the TNT’s gather round a dinner table at a different restaurant. There’s laughing and crying and everything in between. I happen to be a member, even though I technically lack a vagina. Don’t mock, I paid my dues (which involved a coconut bra and grass skirt).

Mom did great, walking all the way from the car to the table (using a walker). Everyone was happy to see her out and about. Lots of laughter is a good thing.

At some point, the girls were discussing the obituaries. Half the girls read them daily. I suppose when *I* hit the ripe old age of 36 (the age my mother has claimed to be for decades now), I’ll have to read the obituaries every day, too. Isn’t that what old people are supposed to do? That, and eating dinner at 4:30pm, wearing shades that engulf your entire head, and donning black socks with shorts and sandals.

Seems a morbid thing to me, looking to see who died, but whatever. I’m not here to judge (outside my head, anyway).

The stress levels for me of late are through the roof. I maintain some vestiges of my mania, I think, though it’s getting harder and harder to tell. This Natural Calm shit isn’t making me feel very calm, but I’m still taking it…along with the multivitamins, L-Theanine, and melatonin. And my pharmaceuticals.

There’s this thing I do – a lot of survivors do it, actually – called Trauma Breathing. Essentially, it’s very shallow breathing, interspersed with a lot of breath-holding. I rarely breathe deeply. It’s a physiological manifestation of my PTSD. And from what I understand, it’s not good for me.

Somewhere down the road, and sooner rather than later, I plan to undertake meditation. I may find Meditation for Dummies somewhere cheaper than what I saw at Books A Million over the weekend. As an aside, I think it’s ridiculous that you’re expected to become a BAM “member” by paying $20, just so you can get 10% off all your purchases for a year. That means I need to buy at least $200 worth of books in order to make it worthwhile. And that’s a shitty business practice. Why not just GIVE me 10% off? I can already find everything cheaper online. Again, though, nobody ever consults me on these things.

The Resolution, right. Well, it’s not going well, I admit. But I did post my first work story yesterday, so that’s a good thing. (Please Digg and Stumble it, I’d be most appreciative. The more traffic I get, the better it is for me.)

A while back I started my Bucket List, which looked like this:

KARL’S BUCKET LIST

• Great Fucking Road Trip
• Bungee jump
• Meet Flight of the Conchords and get them on my show
• Go to Australia
• Get my own medical marijuana card
• Fix my smile
• Write my story in a book. Have at least one book signing.
• Do the largest dancing in my boxers video ever with dozens of women at least
• Have some random stranger recognize me on the street in any place other than home
• Meet Jaime Murray
• Do a video with @jennyonthespot
• Karaoke in Tokyo (EDIT: a country song)
• Fall in love and get married
• Party in Vegas
• Get paid to do a talk show on radio

I’m going to keep adding to this and editing as need be. I really liked a post that Adam wrote a while back. He was contemplating all the things he wants to accomplish before he’s 40. Adam and I seem to have a lot going on at the moment in the Change Department.

I’m already past 40, but I think I’m going to create a second list of things I want to accomplish before I’m 50. Some of them may crossover onto my Bucket List, but that’s OK.

Making goals is not something I’m well-versed at. I’m not a future-thinking kinda guy. I can barely think about what I’m having for dinner tonight, let alone goals for the next 7 years. It’s a Survivor thing, I’ve learned. Just focus on getting through THIS MOMENT. Survival IS the goal. But surviving isn’t enough, people. That’s not LIVING, that’s just existing. Maggots do as much.

But still, this is the Year of Resolutions, a time when I’m working hard to make mental shifts. I want to see the positive instead of constantly focusing on the negative. Fuck, I want to be – dare I say it? – happy.

So here are some of the things I’d like to get done before I’m 50.

1. Do stand-up comedy. My friend, Mic (who I still call Mike, but whatever), is doing this now in L.A. As a teenager, I’d walk to and from school with Mike and Rob and my brother, Chris. We’d make each other laugh constantly. And play Dungeons & Dragons. Mike’s been telling me I should do stand-up for a while now, and I’ve always pooh-pooh’d the idea because I’m laden with anxieties and neuroses. But lately, I’ve been feeling more and more like I want to try this.
2. Finish and publish a book. Doesn’t have to be my autobiography, but it probably will be. Haven’t touched that damn manuscript in a decade, but I plan on changing that.
3. Get back to England. I lived there for three years, and loved it, even if that was also the time that led to the end of my marriage. I have friends there still, and now I have NEW friends there, thanks to the InterWebz.
4. Drive all of Route 66. This is something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. Big road trip.
5. Become my own boss. I love writing, and I’m happy that I’ve had the opportunities to make a living at it. Ultimately, though, I want to answer to myself. Sure, I don’t know shit about business or even budgeting, but I can get there. And I’m hoping to get a business venture launched in the near future, something I’ve been mulling over for a while now. (That’ll come after I relaunch SecondHand Tryptophan, which is happening in the next month.) Ultimately, this is about not being poor any more.
6. Move out of Sebring. I never intended to stay here this long. I’ve come to appreciate the town, but it’s not enough for me. I want to be somewhere else. Not sure where, exactly, but it needs to be bigger than Sebring. And it’s probably going to be somewhere relatively warm because I’m so not a snow person.

I think those are enough for now. Again, it’s another list in progress.

I’ll bring these lists with me to my Matrix Therapy session this afternoon. The MT was off last week, and I’m in heavy need of some therapizing. I’m also bringing my old IOP journal, the one that lists my med regimen, including the meds that were WORKING. If I don’t find some fucking relief, and soon, I don’t know that I’ll be in any position to get any of the things on my lists accomplished.

In the meantime, who needs a drink?

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan

So I mentioned that my Resolution this month hit a snag. Big time. Bottom line is, I got fired. From one of my gigs, not both.

Not that it’s a huge shock, mind you. After all, I haven’t worked in quite a while. I take the blame for that.

I won’t say exactly which site fired me, but it doesn’t involve travel blogging, and it might rhyme loosely with Brain Trawler.

No matter. It’s lit a fire under my ass. I plan on doing more travel stories until I find another gig to add to the hotel blogging. So if you know of anything, please let me know. Especially if it involves me writing more humor’ish, slice-of-life stuff. I’m also going to get my other little project going. I told you, I have ideas.

Course, this reaffirms what I’ve already said. TequilaCon is definitely out for me this year. And it doesn’t look good for BlogHer, either. Disappointing, to say the least. For you, I mean. Ahem.

In the meantime, I thought I’d write a little letter to any future employers I have. I’m sure they’re all reading this and are interested in anything and everything I have to say.

Dear Future Employers:

Hi, I wanted to take a moment to give you a list of things you might try in order to make my life with you more pleasant. Or more professional. Whatever.

1. You should know up front that I prefer being notified when I get fired. You know, as close to when you hire my replacements as is convenient for you. To clarify, telling me months later – only after I am ready to return to work – is just a tad late for my taste. I realize it’s a personal preference, but it’s MY personal preference.
2. If you simply must fire me, I prefer getting a phone call over getting an email 15 minutes before end-of-business. It’s more professional and, as an added bonus, it doesn’t make your company seem like it truly doesn’t give a fuck about their employees.
3. Please don’t try to explain your decisions for firing me, unless you’re giving me REAL reasons. I’m not as dumb as I look. For example, saying that it’s because of “budgetary constraints” when you only have a finite number of writing slots per day, and it doesn’t matter who writes them or gets paid for them, is kinda bogus’ish.
4. If you’re going to fire me, please do me the kindness of removing me from the company email lists first. I have enough email to wrestle with every day, I don’t need more.
5. If you happen to be in, say, the gossip industry, please don’t pretend to class up the joint by not using words like “butt” or “nude.” Especially if it’s a blog skewed toward mommies. Because moms happen to be nude a lot, and they also have butts. And they’re also there to read GOSSIP. Running a gossip blog – and again, this is only if you happen to be in that industry – and telling the writers they can’t use words like “sex” or “boobs” is a little like telling TMZ not to take photos. It can be done, mind you, but no one is going to want to read it any more. And I think the traffic reflects that. Or *would*…sorry.
6. I like employers who send me things like free coffee or Cherry Coke Zero. And massage gift certificates. Even without the Happy Ending added on, it’s still a nice perk.

I have other ideas, too, if you care to ask for my input. Most involve naked women, but I do have a great one that includes a shaved giraffe.

Sincerely,

Karl Erikson

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan